the Return of the Gaijin

The hiatus has been long. Winter snows have long since melted. I have things to say: Tales of mountain quests, dojo battles, and myriad contemplations of what exactly is … happening. So much has come to pass since words were last typed onto this online medium, but a recounting of those events is not necessary. Long have I contemplated a return, a period frought with doubts of whether I can maintain consistent participation … but that is also not important.

This is not a place for whimsical thoughts; ones thought on idle clouds. Like farts in the wind, I let them pass. Rather, this a place to discover meanings by plumbing depths of shadowed psyche. One born from a need to know. Many trusted texts advise inactivity and restraint, but to follow only what is written is to misread everything else. So I’ve sat. Mass erosions of expired cliffs have fallen into the sea of elsewhere. Demons who lept back for survival were timely executed. Now what remains holds great meaning. Only so much can fit in a pack that travels up mountains.

There is a need to know.

What I think is me, but I can’t see it clearly, so I write. But writing hidden pages whose only company is a trash can is little more revealing. So I write here, throwing rocks at your walls. Will it make a sound? Let me hear it and comment!